Warm In My Sweatshirt
I was dreaming about baseball. i used to be up to bat and wearing my favorite black game over sweatshirt but there was something very wrong with this dream. I had a really bad feeling and my subconscious was telling me to wake-up. there have been no players on the sector , not even the pitcher. i used to be reception plate within the batting stance with bat cocked, elbow out, knees bent, and butt pushed out; wearing only my sweatshirt, a pair of bright white boxers and heavy gray wool socks with liners but no shoes. Pitched balls were coming toward the plate from an empty mound and odd sounds were coming from the empty stands. Strangely, just before going to the plate the balls were stopping mid-air and falling to the bottom , creating an outsized scattering of baseballs on the bottom ahead of home base .
The reality was i used to be comfortably tucked into my ice-caked bag with my Travis scott merch shop sweatshirt, boxers, and socks, while resting on a thick layer of pine needles under one among only 5 trees. only one was suitably strong and tall enough for hanging our food. It had a wonderfully located strong branch for hanging about 20 feet off the bottom . We were around 9,500 feet elevation. that is the approximate timber line within the Sierra Nevada range .
It Was Time To Put-On My Sweatshirt
We had stopped here because it had been getting late. it had been the last half-way decent place to camp for the night. the trail ahead would be nothing but rock and icy cold winds for subsequent 6 miles within the late afternoon. You see once you camp in nothing but rocks it isn’t only uncomfortable and colder, it’s harder to hold and protect your food from bears and especially — everything you’ve got from those pesky little mice. Those little buggers chew holes in anything and everything they can not freely get into; like sleeping bags and backpack pockets. Everything must remain open and fully accessible unless you’re right there with it and paying close attention. Hanging food high enough from a line stretched between rocks may be a real pain-in-the-ass.
There wasn’t enough time to form it over the pass and drop-down the opposite side below timber line before dark. that’s why we stopped here. We had started our adventure at the bottom of Whitney with a destination of Yosemite Valley. The Muir trail spans length-wise traversing the very best portions of the Sierra Nevada range . Since my friend Larry and that i had only been out 6 days our packs were still very heavy with 4 large bags of food each. We were carrying an enormous cache of food, enough to comfortably cover us for our 30 day trek across the 211 miles of the toilet Muir Trail. Enough so we did not have to fishing or devour additional food along the way. We were lining ourselves up to travel over ruggedly high 11,600 foot pass within the morning while we were fresh and before the hotter temperature of mid day could make it harder .
Only a Sweatshirt to stay Me Warm
Suddenly I awoke to the sound of limbs crackling over within the direction of that big tree; oh-no our food. I scrambled out of my bag into the icy cold dark night with only a small penlight in-hand and therefore the sweatshirt on my back while shouting to Larry, “Larry, i feel some big ass hungry bear goes for our food”. Larry didn’t’t want to urge out of his nice warm bag. I didn’t’t blame him, damn it had been cold. So we just listened a touch . We didn’t hear one sound from over there. All we could hear was the small stream down the other direction from us. Although still fearful, Larry convinced me i used to be just dreaming. So with penlight in-hand I climbed back to my bag. i used to be freezing out there with bare legs and only a sweatshirt.
I wasn’t ready to fall back asleep directly so I just laid there, mind spinning, brooding about stuff. i used to be brooding about the one year we had been planning this trip, scrapping up the cash for this expensive down bag, and an entire bunch of specialty backpacking equipment. i used to be remembering our after work conditioning hikes with rocks in our packs to simulate the load of our food and equipment; very heavy @ 85lbs. I got this one really funny picture in my head. it had been of me charging a bear in my sweatshirt and boxers from a bear’s perspective. I laughed silently to myself as I pictured only my bright white boxers charging towards me. within the darkness of night I couldn’t see the dark sweatshirt. What a daunting vision even to a bear i assumed .
That Light-Hearted Sweatshirt Moment Turned to Panic
The sound of crackling and falling things hitting the bottom filled my ears – again! it had been the start of a nightmare, but this point i used to be not dreaming. I knew if we didn’t get our asses and my sweatshirt over there right-away our trip would be ruined, if it wasn’t already. I shouted at Larry as I sprang out of my sack. Again with penlight in hand and only the sweatshirt on my back we raced over thereto giant sequoia area; the one where our food wont to be hanging. As we approach we began seeing packages of food scattered all round the base of that big old tree and a pair of reflective beady eyes staring up at us. They belonged to the most important fattest bruin I had ever seen. He was hunkered over our food, mouth to the bottom , slobbering and munching away as his eyes peered upward toward us. His eyes and visual communication said it all – screw you I’m not going anywhere until I finish everything.
I Knew My Cougar Sweatshirt couldn’t Protect Me From A Hungry Bear
Larry and that i checked out one another . We could see the shock and panic in each other’s faces. We quickly agreed to aim chasing the take away by charging him while screaming loudly and throwing sticks and stones. We each picked-up a couple of small rocks and charged the bear while yelling at the highest of our lungs. Stopping about 20 feet away we pummel him with our rocks. No reaction, nothing, not even a flinch. That son-of-a-bitch just kept eating our food. Apparently he had been here and done this quite few times before without encountering someone willing to risk the sweatshirt on their back. We immediately atoallinks grabbed more rocks and whatever was handy right there at 20 feet close. We charged closer, yelled, and unloaded again. this point he a minimum of searched . But soon he lowered his head backtrack and continued feasting on our precious food. altogether my numerous run-ins with bears I had never encountered a bear this brazen. By now we were out of sync as we franticly charged, yelled and threw rocks over and over.
We finally succeeded in driving him back several steps only to be disappointed when he came forward again to choose a special group of snacks. With a glimmer of hope and even greater determination I grabbed a rock so huge I could barely hold it with one hand. i assumed to myself this is often it; we have got to harm this bastard to let him know the food is ours. I charged all the way right up along-side of that son-of-a-bitch and guided that big bolder with everything I had right into the side of his head; bulls-eye! He immediately cried out shaking his head as he lurched back and rocked abreast of his back two legs then backtrack . All the while he was crying and shaking his head. Fortunately on behalf of me the bear was so stunned and disoriented he didn’t attack me. Obviously I hadn’t thought this out too well; my sweatshirt could have gotten shredded right then and there. Right about then Larry unloaded on him again. At now that big fat bear rotated and lumbered over to a close-by ridge disappearing downhill into the vegetation.
My Weightlifter Sweatshirt Survived
We sighed with relief but still in shock we raced back over to our camp area to urge into our warmest clothes and boots on our nearly frozen feet. We returned as fast as possible to assess the damage; hopping we could salvage the bulk of our food. As we were standing in our sea of food discussing an idea of action here came that damn stubborn bear slowly back over the ridge toward us and our food. Unbelievable, what’s it getting to take? At now we had began to regain a number of our sense . We almost gave up the food. But in nearly a moment our anger returned. We grabbed more rocks, bigger rocks this point , and raced over to the ridge area where the bear had paused. He looked a touch angry and was performing some bear talking as we approached. We didn’t pause. We just let him have it everywhere again – hard! That was all it took. He spun around and high-tailed it back over and down into the vegetation for the second time. Now, we were really starting to worry about our safety. what percentage times can we pummel that bear before he decides to fight instead of retreat? We agreed that we had already pushed our luck to the max; we might to not challenge that bear again.
